


How Peter got his groove back.

by ineedthislikeaholeinthehead



Category: X-Men, X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Daddy Issues, Depression, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead/pseuds/ineedthislikeaholeinthehead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter's having a hard time fitting in at the mansion.  He's also having a hard time with his dead beat dad's increasingly frequent visits.  To be honest, he's having a hard time with everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Peter got his groove back.

**Author's Note:**

> I kept thinking about [this](http://t-adash-i.tumblr.com/post/148474630931/peter-maximoff-gets-a-lot-sadder-when-you-realize) post, and it drove me so nuts that I had to try and write something for our silver haired friend. This isn't really my fandom, but I hope I did alright anyways. 

**I.**

The hardest thing about moving to the mansion was the school aspect of the whole thing.

Peter hadn’t been a terrible student- he usually scraped by pretty well. Even before his powers had started manifesting, he’d been athletic and well liked, and never had to worry about what lunch table to sit at.

But then he’d got his powers, and he’d become a star athlete and that had come with a lot of perks. A lot. Which was nice. Who doesn’t like being the center of attention, having girls fawn over you and guys be jealous of you?

It was a great distraction… When everyone in the world loves you, who cares if your father is a dickhead who doesn’t?

And then he went and fucked all that up- it’s one thing to be faster than all the other kids and a completely different thing to be faster than the speed of sound. Once he’d been outed by the track and field as a mutant, all those friends and admirers disappeared pretty quickly. Not to mention his disqualification ruined it for any other mutants to compete in organized sports.

Peter was all alone. Figured. Maybe he was just meant to be alone.

The mansion had been converted into a school too late for him to enroll- but the track was still there, cruelly located within view of his bedroom. There were enough kids- Peter constantly had to remind himself that they were kids, because between them and the staff, he always felt more in common with the students- that seemed to be interested in track and field that he got a lot of chances to see them out there.

When he was in a particularly melancholy mood, he’d let himself gorge on Twinkies, and time them.

When he was in a particularly drunk mood in the middle of the night, he’d creep out to the track, run a couple hundred laps, and let himself pass out on the field for god knows who (Hank… it was always Hank) to find in the morning.

  
**II.**

 

When they weren’t on missions, Peter didn’t have much of a purpose. He wasn’t exactly equipped to teach biology when he hadn’t even graduated high school.

Every once in awhile, he’d try to help the staff grade papers or run errands or the most menial tasks they could think of. Peter doubted anyone held him in much esteem. Maybe they wouldn’t underestimate him so much if he stopped quipping or just a fraction of the sarcasm, but even if he could, where’s the fun in that?

Life was so jam packed full of things that weren’t fun. You couldn’t just give up on the things that gave you even a hint of happiness.

Besides, the “kids” got a kick out of it- even Jean would occasionally drop her super serious “think of me as the next Professor X” look for a bemused smile every once in awhile. What could be better than that?

Purpose might be. But Peter couldn’t really get his head around what that purpose might be.

Who cared anyways? He had his team, he had his missions. Lots of people had less. Maybe he just needed to be happy with what he had.

 

**III.**

 

Peter had heard some uncomfortable news.

Erik was in residence.

Peter still hadn’t confronted him about their relationship, and every time he heard something knew about Magneto, he was even less sure he wanted to.

His visits seemed to be getting more and more frequent, and the gossip around the collective student body was that he and Charles were finally figuring their shit out. Even the rest of the staff was betting on when Erik would become a permanent fixture at the mansion.

Peter wasn’t worried. Until Mystique started planning a metal workshop, he wasn’t going to sweat it.

He didn’t sweat anything. When things got too rough, he just ran. Like father, like son.

It was just hard, knowing that Erik was in the house.

On the third consecutive day of Erik’s visit, he saw him from across the hall. There was basically no escape, and Peter had heard that Erik had been asking after him.

How many years had he dreamed of his father caring enough to want to know how he was doing? What would 10 year old Peter have thought of the fact that, after years of pining for contact, it was him that couldn’t stand the thought of it?

It was just too hard. Peter was too numb to say the things he needed to say, to hear what Erik’s excuses were. Maybe someday his head would be on straight enough to get there, but not yet.

So he took a deep breath and rushed down the hall in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t until he was safely locked away in his room that he noticed his walkman and headphones were missing.

Back in his own room, Erik ran his fingers over the plastic and the metal of the music player.

 

**IV.**

 

Peter was tired. And he was in pain.

Their last mission hadn’t been a fun one, his shattered ankle could attest to that.

Hank had all sorts of ideas to heal it, but as far as Peter was concerned, Hank should stick to engineering. Most of his biological endeavors ended up making people blue in one way or another.

So Peter was stuck healing the old fashioned way. Which meant he was stuck on bed rest for at least a few weeks. God, he envied Logan. Everyone envied Logan. Except maybe Logan.

He still didn’t understand why his super speed didn’t affect how long it took for his body to heal. At the moment, it was only the second cruellest thing in his life.

Someone had let his mother know he’d been injured- he’d gotten hurt tons of times before, but he was really good at not letting her know about it. But he’d idiotically taken a call from his little sister, and he couldn’t keep anything from her, especially when he was drugged up. So he’d let it slip that he was stuck in bed, and she’d immediately told their mother, and now she’d made a trip up to visit him and nurse him back to health.

Part of him felt guilty. Most of the students with human parents got dumped here, maybe going back to see their parents on a holiday here or there, but generally having to accept that their families would rather not know about their alternative lifestyle. Peter’s mother was human and supportive, a rare person indeed. Part of him felt embarrassed, because he was a grown ass man, this wasn’t even the worst injury of the year! The most important part of him was grateful. She’d put up with so much of his bullshit, and yet, here she was, still caring.   
The only problem was, his mother’s visit just had to line up with one of Erik’s visits.

Since he couldn’t do shit about whatever Charles and Erik were doing, Peter considered concocting a story to get his mother to leave, but he hadn’t thought anything up before trouble came trampling straight through his bedroom door in the form of Erik Lensherr.

Erik forgot what he was there for the second he saw her.

Peter tried to melt into the bed as his mother stood up, completely in shock.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Erik asked Peter.

“I think you’re pretty well acquainted already.” Erik took too long to respond, so Peter watched (with just a little satisfaction) as his mother slapped him right across the cheek.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“I… was visiting Quicksilver…”

“Call your son by his name!” She told him, and Peter cursed himself for letting this happen. Erik looked over to him, seeing Peter’s deer in the headlights stare of terror, and looked back to his mother.

“My child died years ago…” Now it was his mother’s turn to turn around and glare at him.

“You mean he still doesn’t know, Peter?”

They both stared expectantly at him, and Peter had no idea what to do. So he stood up. Then he fell down and had to pull himself up, making sure not to put too much pressure on his left side.

“Why’s it my responsibility to keep track of your mistakes?” he didn’t know who he was asking, and he didn’t care. “If you want to criticize my poor communication skills, take a look at where I got them from.”

Peter didn’t want to hear anything else from either of them, so he sped out of the room, collapsing a few hallways over, in front of Jean’s door.

She found him there a few minutes later and let him stay.

He couldn’t say anything, but he was glad she was there to understand.

  
**V.**

 

“You’re being too hard on him.” Charles had been looking for the right time to talk to Peter, but since it never seemed to appear, he rolled in front of him while Peter was trying to speed by his office.

“You’re pretty biased to say a thing like that.” Peter said, but he followed the professor into his study all the same.

“Erik is… a complicated man. But that doesn’t make him a bad one.”

“Uh… I could think of about half a million families that might disagree with you there.”

“He’s different, Peter. You say I’m biased, but I say I’m seeing things you can’t, and the predicament you find yourselves in is tearing him apart.”

“Then why doesn’t he tell me that himself?”

“Well, you’ve been avoiding him for months.”

“No.” Peter lied. It had been harder and harder to avoid Erik since he’d moved into the mansion full time, but it was a big place- and always getting bigger- he’d made due with the help of a lot of missions that Mystique had graciously assigned him.

“You really think you can lie to me?”

“It was worth a shot.”

“If you’d just give him a chance, Peter, I think you’d be amazed.”

“Amazed? At what a wonderful person he is? At what an incredible guy he can be? He’s got a great sense of humor? How’s any of that supposed to make up for the last 30 years he didn’t want to have anything to do with me?”

“It didn’t have to be that long.” Charles reminded him. Because that was exactly what Peter wanted to hear right now… or ever. Erik could spend 25 years ignoring him, but since Peter didn’t go running up to him in Cairo screaming “DADDY!!!!” this was all his fault. He stood up.

“Look, I’ve already been step-dadded, and I’m not really in the mood at the moment, so why don’t you have your people call my people, and we’ll schedule a ball game or something.”

“I’m not going to force you into anything, Peter.” Charles said.

“But?”

“But you’ve already spent three decades without him. Why waste another moment?”

Peter rolled his eyes as he sped off.

 

**VI.**

 

“I don’t think he understands.” Before Peter had a chance to shoot, the basketball was out of his hands. He looked up and Kurt was sitting on the hoop, holding it.

“Of course he doesn’t.” He told him as he tossed Peter the ball again. “No one understands what you’re going through.” Peter tried again to speed dunk the ball into the hoop, and again Kurt ended up with it in his arms.

“I’d wager you know a little about it.” Kurt laughed.

“Mystique might be a confusing mother, but I think you still beat me.” He said as he threw the ball back at Peter. “Just maybe not at basketball.”

“This isn’t real basketball.” Peter said, dribbling at normal speed, around Kurt. “I’d kick your ass in a regular game.”

“Do you want to play a regular game? No powers?”

“When’s the last time you did something like that?” He asked. Kurt thought about it.

“We’re not all as cocky as you, Peter. I’d say I walk more than I teleport.”

“Ok. No teleporting.” Peter said. “And no super speed.” They started playing an actual game. Peter had to stop and explain rules every once in awhile, but after a while, he was really getting into the swing of things. Enjoying the simple pleasure of using his body.

Peter spent so much time watching the world in slow motion, he’d forgotten how good it could feel to take it slow.

They called it a game after an hour, and both laid down in the grass, hot and sweaty and comfortable.

“You’re good at this.” Kurt said through sips of the water bottle neither one of them had expected to actually use. “You should teach gym.”

“They don’t teach gym here.” Peter said as he grabbed the water bottle. Kurt stood up.

“Maybe they should.” He suggested. And, just like that, he was gone.

 

**VII.**

 

“It’s time.” Erik was standing right in front of him. Peter knew he had on too much metal on his body to make a move.

“You don’t get to decide that.” Peter said, hoping that his resolve looked solid.

“You have to give me a chance to explain myself.” Erik said, grabbing Peter by the arm. He could feel the strength in Erik’s fist, but it didn’t phase him.

“I don't have to give you anything.” Peter said as he pulled his arm free. Before he had a chance to walk away, Mystique walked towards them.

“Come on.” She said, showing her own strength as she grabbed both of them by the arms.

“What?” Erik asked.

“Mission time.”

“Nah. The Professor took everyone out this morning. They’ll probably be back any minute.” Mystique had dragged them to Hank’s door. She pushed Peter onto it.

“They’re not coming back, unless we go get them.” She opened the door and walked in. Hank was already suited up, handing Mystique her suit.

“You know I’m not an X-men.” Erik said. Hank shoved a suit into his chest.

“Normally, yes. But we’re calling in second string. Congratulations.” He said. Even with Charles and Erik’s relationship finally cemented, it was pretty obvious that there was no love lost between Hank and Erik.

He looked over to Peter, who had already changed and was waiting for Hank and Mystique’s orders.

 

**VIII.**

 

“You don’t have to worry.” Peter said. Mystique and Hank were quietly bickering in the front. It’s always a great idea to bitch at your sometimes girlfriend when you’re piloting an aircraft into a war zone, Peter was glad they were using this time so effectively. Nothing like a life threatening situation to get you pumped to work on your interpersonal relationships.

“What makes you think I’m worried?”

“Well, you’re sitting with your head in your hands, and you’ve got like a stupid worry face on.” Peter tried to mimic it. “Like this.” Erik laughed.

“Is that what I look like?” Peter shrugged. For a moment, he’d forgotten that Erik was the dickiest of dicks, his father. For just a second, it was like any other mission, Peter being charged with keeping everyone’s spirits up and nerves at bay. Erik could feel his mood change. “I’m not worried about me, Peter. I’m worried about Charles. And you, and the rest of them.”

“Why? We’ve gotten by just fine without you up until now.”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

“Oh, do you suppose?”

“I find out I have a son who wants nothing to do with me, but at least I still get the experience of dealing with a sarcastic child.”

“I am not a child.” Peter said. “What do you mean find out?”

Even if Erik had an answer, he didn’t have enough time to respond. There was a giant crack in the floor, which he immediately merged back together.

Lights and sirens were blaring.

“You’ve got to keep us steady, Erik!” Mystique yelled.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” He screamed back. Peter looked down at the floor and followed the crack to it’s end. He put his foot on it, started vibrating, and watched the metal turn red and seal back together. He moved a few inches down and did the same thing, until the split was completely sealed.

With the hole out of the way, Erik concentrated on setting them down.

“I’ve got it.” Hank said.

“Nah, your engines are out.” Peter said, appearing next to him to point at the flashing panel. He was right so Hank had no choice but to let Erik guide them down, landing smoothly in a grove of trees.   
Once they were landed, they immediately disembarked.

“You have to fix the engines, Hank.”

“You’re going to need me.” Mystique put her hand on his chest.

“If you can’t get us up and running, we’re all gone.”

“You’re saving everyone if you stay here.” Erik said. With a grunt, Hank walked back to one of the engines.

 

**IX.**

 

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.” Peter didn’t realize that he’d left his door unlocked, but who needed a key for a measly metal lock?

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He said, going back to the freshly stolen comic book. Erik took it out of his hand and tossed it across the bed before sitting down.

As far as Peter was concerned, a successful rescue mission was impressive, but didn’t earn any further conversation.

“I was a young, angry man when I met your mother. I was younger than you… at least physically.”

“If you wanted a mature son, you probably should have taught him how to be that.”

“You’re completely right, Peter. I’m never going to claim that I was an innocent.”

“I don’t see why that matters.”

“I..” Peter watched as a realization finally stuck in Erik’s head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” He said as he stood up. “Your mother was young and angry when we met, too. I think it’s what attracted me to her. After seeing her again, it’s obvious that we’re still cut from the same cloth. So it shouldn’t surprise me that you’ve got that anger inside you, too. I have no right to expect that you would forgive me, or accept me as a father now, when I wasn’t there when you needed me, Peter.”

Erik walked towards the door, but he couldn’t help himself from turning back and looking at his son.

“I’ll just say, from experience, that anger that you’re feeding will bring you nothing but more pain.”

“Let me guess, if I just stop being angry at you, if I just say ‘Hey Dad, let’s go out for a nice game of catch!’ everything’s gonna be great. The past 30 years are gonna just disappear and everything between us now will just be water under the bridge. Is that the answer, Erik?” Peter had grabbed the comic and buried his head in it again. Erik laughed.

“Of course not. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at me- I’m incredibly mad at me. Don’t waste good energy after bad, though. Don’t let my mistakes drown you. Find something else to occupy your time.”

“Like what?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.” And with that, Erik was gone.

 

**X.**

 

“What sort of education?” Charles looked up from his paperwork for the first time since the faculty meeting had started. Because of Peter’s precarious position, he’d always been invited to these meetings, but had very rarely made even the most flippant of comments.

There seemed something sacred about these meetings, or at least something intimidating enough that his normal brand of teasing and sarcasm seemed inappropriate. And without the security of witticism and detached commentary, Peter found himself uncharacteristically shy.

But today was different. He’d come up with a list, bullet points and everything, and even practiced his arguments in the mirror before the meeting.

“Physical education.” He stammered. “We’ve already got everything set up, but there’s no actual curriculum in place, no one monitoring or tracking students’ progress.” Charles smiled, a little surprised that Peter had the capacity to sit still long enough to put together even a casual presentation like this.

“The kids get all of that in training.” Mystique pointed out.

“If they’re on the X track.” Peter told her. “Most of these kids aren’t going to be X-men, they’re going to go back into the world. And I want them to go back knowing the basics, and maybe in better shape, too.”

“We’re not here to police anyone’s habits.” Hank said.

“But there’s a difference between policing habits and molding healthy habits.”

“Kids come here to get away from the unfair rubrics of human school, gym class only reminds them of what they aren’t.” Erik pointed out. Way to help a guy out.

  
“Phys Ed isn’t just for gatekeeping humans. It...It teaches discipline and teamwork. I know you all know this, because you’ve been employing it for the X track for years. All of these kids aren’t going to be X-men, but they still deserve the chance to hone those skills for whatever they go on to do. And…”

“And?” Charles finally asked him. Peter wished Charles would just look in his head and see it. But, noooo, Charles was obviously trying to teach him some sort of lesson.

“And… what if one of the kids on the society track ends up being an X-men? What’s so wrong with giving everyone a foundation?” Peter finally looked up and around. He was surprised to find them all thinking, not something he was used to making people do.

“I think it’s fair to say that you’ve made a good point.” Charles told him. “But, who would teach this class?” This was the moment. Peter swallowed.

“I’ve got the time…” He said, looking into Charles’ eyes and knowing that he’d known that this was what Peter had wanted all along.

 

**XI.**

 

“Did you see the way Stacey swung?” Peter said, picking up the bat that the blue and red colored girl had dropped. He handed it back to her. “Grip strong, knees bent, arms up, and eyes on the prize. This is the position of an all star.” He said.

Stacey looked up at him. She didn’t talk because her voice was so high pitched that it broke ear drums, but she smiled, and when she smiled at Peter, he was awash with the feeling of accomplishment.

“Ok you guys. Lesson’s over for the day. Your homework is to run to your next class. One, two, three...Go!”

Everyone started off in a flash. A couple of kids stopped running once they thought they were out of Peter’s sight. He just smiled and started picking up equipment.

“You’re good with them.” He looked up and Erik was standing a few feet away, holding one of the mits someone had carelessly dropped when Peter had dismissed him.

“I think it’s because I’m as immature as most of them.” Peter said. His foot hit the bottom of a baseball. Erik laughed.

“Not for long.” He said. Peter kicked the ball up into his hand.

“You think?” He asked, rolling the ball in his fingers.

  
“Looks that way.” Peter threw the ball towards Erik, but before he could catch it, he’d swung around him, caught it, and landed back in his original spot. Erik smiled and dropped the mitt.

  
“Good one.” He said, not knowing why he’d even hoped for something as normal as a game of catch. They weren’t there yet. They might not ever be there. Erik turned away and started walking.

“Hey.” Peter said. Erik turned around and caught the ball Peter had thrown at him. “I need someone to help me clean all of this up.”

Erik smiled again, and walked back to pick up the mitt he’d dropped. 


End file.
